


The Way to A Man's Heart...

by ChocolateCapCookie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Background Relationships, Bad dates, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Author Regrets Everything, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21789523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: This was going to be the best, most perfect first date ever, he just knew it. Steve had prepared, confirmed, analyzed and over-analyzed the hell out of this date, and he wasn’t going to let anything go wrong.Which, of course, meant that everything went wrong.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65





	The Way to A Man's Heart...

“This is pathetic,” said Bucky, rolling his eyes. Sam nodded, glaring at Steve.

“Just wear anything, Steve, it isn’t a big deal.”

“It is a very big deal,” said Steve frantically, digging through the piles of clothes that he’d pulled out of his closet and that were now strewn on every available surface. “This is _Tony Stark,_ I can’t go on a date with Tony Stark wearing the same shirt I wore in college.” Bucky rolled his eyes again as Sam tried to reason with Steve. 

“Tony won’t give a flying fuck about what you’re wearing, Steve, he’ll be happy to just have you.”

“What if he doesn’t like me? Or if he doesn’t like the restaurant? Shit, maybe he’s allergic to seafood or gluten or something, I should have checked…”

“Steve, calm the fuck down,” said Bucky, amused but also very irritated by Steve’s nervousness. “This date is going to be fine, okay? And if it doesn’t, Sam and I are always up for a threesome.” Bucky winked suggestively at Steve, who rolled his eyes but did take the advice in stride.

“This shirt good?” he asked, picking out a navy-blue button-down he’d only worn a few times before. Sam had given it to him, telling him it accentuated his muscles. And maybe it did, but Steve was too shy to wear it out in public too much.

“Yes, Stevie, now go ahead and get ready,” said Bucky, almost pushing Steve to the bathroom to get changed. “And make sure you shave!”

  
  
  


This was going to be the best, most perfect first date ever, he just knew it. Steve had prepared, confirmed, analyzed and over-analyzed the hell out of this date, and he wasn’t going to let anything go wrong. He gave himself a quick once-over in his car window (or if he wanted to get technical about it, Bucky’s car window) and grimaced. His shirt just _wouldn’t_ stay tucked in and his hair looked too messed up. Sadly, there was no time for a makeover right now, so, biting his lip nervously, he walked up to Tony’s door.

Tony opened the almost literally the second after Steve knocked. He flushed hotly, embarrassed by his enthusiasm, but Steve was too nervous to notice. They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before Tony spoke.

“Hey,” he started, or squeaked rather. Steve smiled, blushing as well.

“Hey,” he replied. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah,” said Tony, a bit too enthusiastically, stepping forward to grab Steve’s hand. The door slammed shut behind him, and both men jumped.

“Oh, fuck,” said Tony, dropping Steve’s hand and patting his pockets frantically. “Fuck, no, I think I locked myself out.” Steve winced in sympathy.

“D’you have a roommate, or someone? Anyone with an extra key?”

“My friend Pepper does, but she’s out of the country at the moment,” groaned Tony, before he seemed to come to his senses. “I mean, it’s not that bad, I can always find a way in,” he corrected quickly, looking at Steve with a smile, “I’ll figure it out later.”

Steve wanted to argue, but then again, there were extremely time-sensitive dinner reservations waiting for the couple, and Steve was a big believer in never being late.

“If you’re sure,” he said hesitantly, but Tony just flashed him that warm smile again and tugged on Steve’s hand so they were walking to his car together.

Steve opened the passenger door for Tony, because he was a gentleman like that. And then his brain decided to forget all human sense and close the door shut just as Tony moved his leg in.

“Mother _fucker_!” screamed Tony, and as mortified as Steve was, he had to fight the urge to wash Tony’s mouth out with soap.

“Oh my god, Tony I’m so sorry!” cried Steve, immediately pulling the door open. Tony pulled off his shoes and leaned back, clearly in pain, massaging his foot through his socks

“It’s fine,” he gasped, and Steve could see tears gathering in his eyes. “I’ll be fine, Steve, don’t worry about me. Get in or we’ll be late.” Steve hurriedly ran to the other side and strapped himself in, asking Tony over and over if he was okay, As they drove and the pain in Tony's foot dulled, he simply turned to smile at Steve.

“This date didn’t start so well, did it?” he said jokingly, but Steve clenched his hands around the wheel in disappointment. He wanted today to be _perfect._ It had barely been five minutes and he'd already messed everything up.

 _Think positive, Steve,_ he told himself, taking a deep breath. He was going to make sure nothing else happened to ruin this date. After all, what else could wrong?

  
  
  


Everything could go wrong, as Steve found out. When they reached the restaurant that Steve had so painstakingly hunted down and researched and finally deemed good enough for Tony, their reservations had mysteriously disappeared. Steve had to put a lot of effort to hold himself back from yelling at the poor little guy at the counter, who assured them that they would be seated the minute a table freed up.

Steve and Tony were stuck together for over fifteen minutes in a tiny, crowded reception area filled with other guests. Steve tried talking to Tony, but they could barely hear each other over the cacophony of screaming children and loud middle-aged women. When they were finally led to their seats, Steve could feel himself dripping with sweat and internally cringed.

It just seemed to get worse from there. Tony and Steve could spend hours talking to each other about the stupidest things at work, but here, the conversation just felt stilted and awkward. Steve tried hard to keep the conversation going, but he kept falling flat, as did Tony.

Steve was very relieved when the waiter came by to take their order, as it gave him an excuse to have an actual question to ask Tony. Tony asked for the lamb, and Steve, looking to cut down on the calories, asked for the braised chicken breast highlighted on the menu as the ‘Chef’s Special!’. When the waiter left, the silence stretched awkwardly between them like a canyon.

“Did-did you see the new Avengers movie?” asked Steve desperately after almost a minute of quiet. Tony just shrugged.

“They're not really my thing,” he said, and Steve just nodded. What was he supposed to say to that?

The service at the restaurant was horrible, and the waiter seemed to be taking forever with their food. They sat in painful silence for a couple of minutes before Tony's phone rang. He excused himself and walked away to take the call, but Steve could tell he was secretly a little relieved to get away.

Steve dropped his head into his hands, groaning. How could this be going so _wrong_? He’d liked Tony for an embarrassingly long time, and he'd spent days trying to make sure this date would go perfectly. Clearly had messed up somewhere, and now he had no idea what to do.

 _Think positive, Stevie,_ he told himself again. He just had to perk up is all. Make funny, amusing conversation. They’d done it for ages, tonight was just a blip. He could do it, really.

Of course, the universe seemed out to ruin his date that night. Tony sat himself down, apologizing for the call. Just as Steve opened his mouth to laugh it off, and possibly say something so smart and witty that Tony would immediately fall head-over-heels in love with him (although he had no idea what that something would be), the waiter returned with their food.

Both Steve and Tony stared in a mixture of shock and disgust as the waiter placed two identical plates of...something that was definitely neither chicken nor lamb on their plates. The pair simply looked at each other in confusion as the waiter cheerily told them that “I hope you enjoy your meal!”

“What the fuck is this?” asked Tony as soon as the waiter had moved out of earshot. Steve poked at the dark brown lump of meat cautiously with the tip of his fork, trying not to disturb the elaborate salad arrangements around it. The whole dish looked like a dog had taken a shit in a salad garden, and then had someone painstakingly pour gravy all over it.

“I would taste it, but I don’t think we can if we’re going to send it back,” said Steve, giggling as he watched Tony sniff curiously at the lump of meat. _He looks like a little puppy._

“Well, we’re not,” said Tony decisively, standing up out of nowhere. Steve looked at him in shock as Tony continued. “I’m gonna go talk to the people at the front and let them know we got the wrong order, and then we’re going to leave. I’ve had enough of this place, haven’t you?”

Oh.

Steve groaned as Tony walked away. Was he really that bad of a date? So bad that Tony couldn’t bear to stay near him for another hour? Sam and Bucky were _never_ going to let him live this down. This was a serious contender for the worst day of his entire life.

Tony returned and plucked his coat off the chair with a finality that didn’t really lend itself to any argument from Steve. Swallowing his nerves, Steve pushed his chair up and walked out as well.

“Would you like to come back to my place?” asked Steve as they reached his car. Tony turned to give him a confused look.

“You want me to come over? I’m no expert on dates, but I don’t think I did well enough to come home with you?” Steve flushed and buckled himself in.

“I meant, since you’re locked out of your place,” he said quickly, not looking at Tony. “I couldn’t just let you go home, Tony, not when you’ve got no way to get in.” Tony stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Right.” He was quiet for a few moments, but spoke up immediately after. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I really don’t,” said Steve hurriedly. And it wasn’t a lie. Things might have been awkward tonight but they were still friends. Hopefully. God, this was why he had waffled over asking Tony out in the first place, because he was afraid he’d ruin their perfectly comfortable friendship.

The drive back was silent, but not as uncomfortable. A slow song played on the radio, making Steve feel like he was in some weird kind of rom-com. Tony didn’t offer anything up either, just staring dramatically out of the window, and Steve had to hold in his giggles at how movie-like the scene was.

When they reached his place, Steve, ever the gentleman, hurried over to open Tony’s door for him. Tony smiled, but accepted the gesture silently. They made their way up the stairs to Steve’s apartment, the silence between them only growing more pronounced in the cramped stairwell.

“It was beef, by the way,” Tony blurted out as Steve fumbled with his keys, unable to bear the oppressive silence anymore. “Some kind of mess up with the orders, they said, and I told them to shove it right up their stupid asses.”

Steve giggled. “No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” agreed Tony mournfully. “I should have, but then again, it wasn’t the poor guy’s fault.”

“It was also the weirdest piece of beef I’ve ever seen,” said Steve, grateful that they finally had something to talk about. Tony just shrugged and followed Steve inside the apartment. Steve looked around cautiously, thanking his lucky stars that Sam or Bucky hadn’t ambushed his apartment, waiting for him to return.

“D’you, um...would you like something to drink?” asked Steve shyly, watching Tony’s graceful movement as he seated himself on Steve’s couch. He’d never seen Tony in such a casual setting before, their meetings always having been at work or post-work drinks with several other colleagues. It was nice seeing the mask of tension and formality drain away as Tony settled himself, loosening his top button and his cuffs.

“Just water would be fine,” said Tony, and Steve nodded awkwardly as he walked into his small kitchen. He filled a large glass up with ice-cold water and brought it back out, smiling at the sight of Tony’s half-closed eyes and his head thrown back against the couch cushions. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, Steve’s heart involuntarily grew a few sizes and he couldn’t help the optimistic glow that spread through him. Everything was going to be fine. He and Tony could have a nice night talking and watching movies, and by tomorrow, they could be good friends (and possibly more) again. All he had to do was not mess up or embarass himself.

Of course, since nothing had gone according to plan tonight, he shouldn’t have expected it to start now. As he leaned over Tony to pass him the full glass of water, his stomach grumbled. And not in the soft, ladylike oh-my-I-must-have-skipped-high-tea kind of way, but so loud and shaky it was like he’d temporarily turned into a very hungry blue whale. Flushing red with embarrassment, Steve moved jerkily away in order to avoid catching Tony’s eyes, and somehow in the process managed to spill the entire glass of freezing water into Tony’s lap.

“Holy fucking _shitt,”_ gasped Tony as he stood up, his hands automatically clenching into fists at the feeling of ice-cold water running down his legs. Steve just stared, horror-struck, at the scene in front of him. Of course he’d go and do something stupid like that. It was a sign from the universe. He and Tony were never going to be together.

“Oh my gosh, Tony, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just kind of slipped, I’m so sorry, it was a complete accident, I swear, I’ll get you something to clean up…” babbled Steve nervously. Tony placed a calm hand on his shoulder, forcing him onto the couch.

“Calm down, Steve,” he said quietly, but with clear laughter in his voice. “It’s just water.”

“I soaked your pants,” said Steve desperately, now trying to remember if he had any clean towels. Damn it, tomorrow was laundry day, he didn't have _anything_ that was clean.

“They’ll dry,” said Tony. When Steve gave no response except for another frantic, whispered apology, Tony sighed, planted his hands firmly on Steve’s shoulders, and led him to sit on the couch as well.

“Steve, don’t worry about it okay? It’s just water. Unless you tried to poison it or something, there’s nothing wrong.” he joked as Steve bit his lip. Steve was ready to pour out another flood of apologies, but Tony cut him off before he could. “Also, when was the last time you ate? You seem pretty hungry,” he finished with a smirk. Steve blushed.

“Not for a while,” he admitted. “I was too nervous to eat anything the whole day, and then...you know what happened,” he said shyly.

“You haven’t eaten in 24 hours?” asked Tony incredulously. Steve shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face at Tony’s dramatics. “Well then, let’s eat something now!”

“I doubt any fast food places will be open this late, Tony.”

“Then I’ll cook for you,” said Tony decisively. “I owe you that much at least, for being such a shitty date tonight.” Steve just looked at him in confusion.

“You weren’t a shitty date, Tony, that was all on me, I was -” Tony held a hand up to cut him off.

“We can argue about that while I’m cooking,” he said, smiling so brightly at Steve that he almost melted. Tony stood up and walked towards the kitchen, and Steve couldn’t keep his eyes away from the shape of Tony’s perfectly shaped butt in those tight, wet jeans.

“Oh, and Steve?” called Tony from the kitchen. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

  
  
  


Normally, Steve wouldn’t be very happy with houseguests rummaging in his cupboards and making pointed comments about what he owned and what he didn’t. With Tony though, all he could do was stare in unbridled amusement as Tony complained about both the poor quality and lack of proper ingredients in Steve’s pantry.

“Steve, how do you have an entire kitchen, but no olive oil?”

“There’s meat in the back of this fridge that’s older than I am!”

“Did your mother never teach you how to pick out fresh vegetables?”

“Steve, there’s no reason for you to have a five-month-old tub of margarine when I _know_ you can afford butter.”

“Are you _trying_ to kill yourself with these shit ingredients, Steve?”

Steve snorted at that last one. “Sorry we weren’t all raised in an Italian restaurant, Tony.” He’d known Tony was part Italian of course, but he’d never thought the stereotype of Italians being maniacal chefs was this accurate.

“You don’t have to be Italian to have basic cooking skills,” snarked Tony, pulling out a package of spaghetti noodles from god knows where and adding it to the random pile of ingredients on the counter. For the life of him, Steve had no idea how the assortment of ingredients was ever supposed to create a meal. “But seriously, I need to teach you how to cook some day.”

“I can cook,” said Steve defensively, ignoring the ‘some day’ part of the sentence and its connotations. He was no genius chef, but his mother had been sick for most of his life, and he’d had to make meals for himself a lot growing up. He knew his basic way around a kitchen.

Tony shook his head. “Cooking is an _art,_ Steve,” he said earnestly as he started pulling out random pots and pans that Steve had forgotten he even owned. “It’s not just throwing together ingredients and creating something edible. You need to feel _connected_ to it, you need to _respect_ the food you’re making. Without the _soul,_ it’s not cooking, it’s just chemistry.”

Steve laughed. “You sound like one of those inspirational Gordon Ramsay videos on Youtube.” Tony fake-scowled at him.

“Say what you want about me, Steve,” he said, faking an affected British accent. “But my grandmother would be _appalled_ if she could see me working with _this._ ”

Steve burst out laughing, and Tony followed him, unable to keep the act up.

“Can I help?” asked Steve when he’d calmed down. “I can't let you do all the work alone when I’m sitting here doing nothing.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” smirked Tony waving a knife in the air in a frankly dangerous fashion. “You can just sit there and keep looking pretty.” Steve blushed red-hot as Tony laughed at him. This second-first-date was going to be great.

  
  
  


“Tony, you are amazing,” moaned Steve later, his eyes closed and his head thrown back in ecstasy. Tony smiled, relating to the pleasurable feeling he knew Steve was feeling right then. He could feel it too.

Steve spoke up again, this time with his mouth full. “You’re a frick’n g’nius, T’ny,” he mumbled through a mouthful of spaghetti, his eyes blown wide at how good it tasted. Tony just shrugged modestly.

“It’s not the best I can do,” he said. “If I had more time and more ingredients, I could have made it better. The sauce is actually supposed to be freshly made and not a concoction of tomato paste and milk, but you didn't have any sun-dried tomatoes, obviously, so I had to settle for that. It’s not as good as it could have been.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Steve, scarfing down another mouthful of the spaghetti noodles covered in a thick, red sauce. He had no idea what was in the sauce, considering he had practically no fresh ingredients whatsoever, but it was still amazing. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“You haven’t tasted my best yet,” laughed Tony. Steve swallowed his last mouthful and put down his fork. _Okay,_ he told himself, _Just shoot your shot. Nothing can go wrong._

“Maybe you can show me some day?” he said casually, draping his arm over the table so that his hand was halfway across and his palm was upturned. Tony was quiet for a few seconds, which was more than enough time for Steve to mentally beat himself up and reconsider every life decision he’d ever made, but he then broke into the widest smile Steve had ever seen on him and gently placed his hand on Steve’s.

“You could come over tomorrow, if you don't have anything planned. I’m told my lasagna is pretty good.”

Steve smiled, a rush of adrenaline working its way through him. _Nothing can go wrong. Shoot your shot._ Gripping Tony’s hand, he leaned over the table to place a soft kiss on Tony’s lips.

“How about I come over tonight?”

**Author's Note:**

> I know I played a little fast and loose with the spaghetti in this, but hey, at least it's there!
> 
> Comments and kudos are very welcome if you guys want to leave them :) Thank you for reading and I love you 3000!


End file.
